


anne

by oh-boleyn (scrxamitout)



Series: infamy [1]
Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Eating Disorders, more tw inside!, not quite a character study tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:08:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22594567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrxamitout/pseuds/oh-boleyn
Summary: How Anne is seen from history, and what happens when she comes back.
Series: infamy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1625791
Comments: 7
Kudos: 100





	anne

**Author's Note:**

> TW: there are suicidal thoughts, eating disorders (no vomiting), mentions of being acussed of incest, miscarriages, death, being beheaded, trouble sleeping and I don't know what else. a lot of control problems too.
> 
> it is heavily bassed on my other one shot katherine, but still can read it as a separate thing. it is kind of a character study, or something like that. I haven't read it whole in one sit so it might not be really good but oh well.
> 
> the commentary between scenes are things I got from internet about anne boleyn.
> 
> Lexi is truly an angel and helped me a lot with this, I am so happy for her help.

_ Anne Boleyn – “The Great Whore” _

(…)

She suddenly can breathe.

She does it quickly, fearing the air might go out soon. Fixing her eyes, she can see Catherine of Aragon —great, she is like  _ dead _ — but then she sees Jane Seymour.

_ Wasn’t she supposed to be alive? _

There are three other women, who she has no clue who they are. But the six of them are sitting in a room, and she has a bad feeling in her gut, or maybe is just Jane presence that doesn’t make her any happier.

(…)

_ The memory of Anne Boleyn has always accreted extraordinary excrescences: an alleged large wart on her face, a fabled sixth finger on one hand, and a whole host of other half-truths. _

(…)

They are all living in a house that could only be labeled as  _ too small _ .

Anne ends up sharing a bedroom with two queens she doesn’t know before arriving in this century. One of them is a total stranger, whose name isn’t even in her mind. She talks half German and speaks about Edward as  _ king _ and Mary as  _ queen _ , which is something idyllic Anne never thought will happen. The other one is none other than her cousin.

Her cousin, who is younger, and even in reincarnation she is. Who doesn’t talk as much, and keeps to herself. Her cousin who was a  _ child _ . She tries her best to make her feel welcomed to the new century, even when she has to put a façade because she is terrified of it too.

Anne is scared out of her mind, but as she was taught, she keeps a smile on her face and a flirty tone in her voice.

(…)

_ There’s no smoke without a fire and that she was partially guilty. _

(…)

The Internet is a great way to look for information, she learns.

She also learns about her daughter, her sweet kid who she left behind. She reads for days, when Anna and Katherine are long asleep, she takes her phone and reads. About the conquers, the golden age, how she was loved, how she never married.

And Anne tries to be happy, she really does try, but it doesn’t work.

There is always a feeling of regret on her chest, of the idea that she might 've been able to see her daughter grow if it wasn’t because she couldn’t bear the king a son.

Boleyn cries silently while trying to make peace with the idea that her daughter was a great monarch, who died five hundred years ago.

(…)

_ Another might be that she was indeed a loose-living lady. _

(…)

Whore was a word that sat heavy on her stomach.

She knew what was, and what wasn’t her fault, but still the cheers when her head hits the ground haunt her in her nightmares, and sometimes during the day.

The first time they do the show, there is tension and anxiety around them, around what they are going to say. She thinks to try and be honest, to really tell her story, but she can’t bring herself to do so. She protects herself saying almost nothing new, nothing outside what anyone could’ve read in a history book, because it’s easier, and it’s safer. It’s better to be an airhead than not having a head at all. Anne doesn’t need the pity of four hundred persons a day like Jane does.

But when they finished their performance, the cheers became so much that she needs to run from there, because she can swear people acted just like the day she lost her head.

(…)

_ Perhaps Henry’s reactions were harsh by our standards, but they were not irrational. _

(…)

“Anne, wake up.” She feels a gentle hand on her back.

Boleyn opens her eyes, trying to take in what she is watching. She is in the kitchen, having fallen asleep on the kitchen table while doing her research on her daughter. The hand comes from none other than Catherine Parr.

“You should go to your room, Kat and Anna might be waiting for you.”

The last queen talks in such a maternal way that makes Anne want to punch her in the face. She had a chance to be Elizabeth’s mother, but instead sent her away. Jeopardized her daughter’s wellbeing, and then sent her away if blogs were true.

(To the very core of her heart, Anne was jealous. Envious of the fact that Elizabeth probably remembered more of Catherine Parr rather than her own mother.)

Anne stood up, going to her bedroom.

“Goodnight Anne.”

“Night, Parr.”

(…)

_ Anne Boleyn: witch, bitch, temptress. _

(…)

When they finally move to a bigger house, Anne takes the attic.

It is the room farthest away from the rest of the queens, which gives her a feeling of release from them. The chance to ignore them as much as she wants. If she could be honest, except for her cousin Kitty, she is not too keen on the rest of them.

There is a voice inside of her that is constantly telling her that they don’t like her either, and that she should probably just ignore them before they do that to her. To have the dominance of the situation.

Having control was always something she craved. The upper hand was nothing else than the final objective. Not controlling things made her feel powerless, numb and weak to the outside world.

So she tried to have everything under her hands.

(…)

_ Scandal of Christendom. _

(…)

“Kitty, I bought new chokers.” Anne says one day, entering her cousin’s room.

“Great.” She responds, smiling.

Her smile looks tight, not quite exactly pleased. Anne gulps and get the accessories on her hands.

“I thought you might like the pink ones, after all you wear a lot of pink.” She passes Katherine pieces of pink fabric.

“And you wear a lot of green.”

“What can I say? It’s my brand.”

She bites down a bitter laugh. That stupid excuse of a poem Henry allegedly wrote to her. About  _ green sleeves _ .

He wrote her every day, gave her gifts, showered her with affection. Anne would love to remember those days as happy and easier, but instead she was plagued with remembering how the other ladies looked at her, how Catherine of Aragon sat so calmly, calling her a witch who had the fault of everything. She didn’t want it, any of it. Hated being the talk of the court, being the  _ whore _ .

“Are you okay, Annie?” Katherine asks. Anne tries to put a good face.

“Yes, just Aragon getting on my nerves.” She says, sitting on the younger’s bed. Her words are not a lie, but not the entire truth. “I’m sure she hates me. It’s not news, we have known for like, I don’t know, five hundred years. But I hoped it would change.”

The last of it comes as a surprise, she wasn’t trying to say that. A slip of her mind.

“I’m sure she hates me too.”

“Why would you say that KitKat?” Anne frowns. “Did she say something to you?”

Concern starts rising from inside her. Katherine had nothing to do with her, and her acts from her past life shouldn’t backfire on her little cousin. Her mind works mechanically, going back into memories trying to find a moment of fury between the other two queens.

Katherine talks before Anne can hyperventilate: “No, but I’m sure she is not too fond of me. Mary wasn’t.”

_ Mary _ .

Just saying that name brings regrets to her. She should’ve been kinder, better. It was all her fault for not being the bigger person, for not acting like a real adult. That is something she can understand from Aragon, her hate towards someone who was apparently treating her child in an awful way.

She stops her train of thoughts, knowing she is just spiralling into the big nothing.

Anne looks at Kitty and wonders if she would’ve liked her back in their old lives.

“I love this pink.” Katherine breaks the silence.

(She is sure she would, after all, she loves her so much in this life, that she will probably love her in any other.)

(…)

Someone made a film about her sister; she discovers one day while idling on YouTube.

The other Boleyn girl.

Anne does not watch it whole; she doesn’t want to, but there is a scene posted that she can’t ignore. She wishes she could’ve, but instead touches the screen of her phone and regrets it while tears start forming on her eyes.

She quickly goes through the Wikipedia page.

That movie made eighty million dollars.

Eighty million dollars made out of her, of a scene where she is almost committing incest.

She feels sick, down to her very core. Anne feels sick of the idea of someone believing she did that, of people watching her (or not her, but rather someone who is portraying her) do that. She starts crying, losing air quickly and having trouble breathing. Her mind goes from the movie, to the Wikipedia page, to the day she was at the tower, watching George getting murdered.

The feeling of being helpless, impotent, of knowing she will never erase that scene from the mind of whoever saw it. Nobody will ever really, truly believe her she wasn’t the one to fault. The loss of control over her own story breaks her from inside.

Anne does not sleep that night.

(…)

Control stars spreading through her mind, as a plague.

First it is the little things, controlling how much shampoo she used while bathing, or how much money she had saved so far. Then it increases, controlling every hashtag on her social media account, and begging Anna to not post videos of her unless she authorizes them.

She can feel Jane’s glace on her while she reprimands Anna and it’s enough to make her feel disgusted by herself.

But she can’t help it, she needs to be in control of what she does, what other people think of her. Anne goes back to her days in court, and how she had to control what she said, thinking every word that ever comes out of her mouth as if a death warrant is waiting for her at the end of the day.

On 1536, it was.

(…)

_ A cold-hearted, husband-stealing bitch, who, from the moment she arrived at the English court, had her eyes firmly set on the crown, stopping at nothing to get it. _

(…)

Anna sits in Anne's room, while they are going over their clothes, trying to pick an outfit to wear that night. They decided to try a bar for the first time, with music, alcohol and all the other things that are supposed to be in a bar.

“I like this one.” Cleves show the younger a translucent green shirt. “Try it on.”

She obliges, asking the other queen to turn around while she is changing. Her black bra can be seen through the thin fabric of the shirt, and she is relieved when she realizes her jeans are high-waisted. Suddenly while looking in the mirror she feels huge, with the clothes tightly wrapped around her.

“You look hot.”

“You think so?” Anne questions.

“Yes, I love it.”

Boleyn considers it for a moment and wonders if brutally-honest Anna is lying for the first time.

She pushes that thought aside and decides to wear it.

(…)

_ It is easy to see Anne as some vicious monster. _

(…)

Anne sometimes prays, even if she is no longer sure of what God and religion means.

It might be because it’s what she is used to doing, but sometimes the second queen relies on it as the only thing that she can keep from her old life. Nights and nights praying to God for a healthy baby boy that might take the kingdom one day, and secure her place as queen. At some point it changes, asking for forgiveness to her brother and the other men who had been convicted. Her last prayer goes for Elizabeth, begging internally to let her have a life.

Praying never truly works, but it still calms her when things become too hard.

Anne thinks that she only calls it God because she wants to, but calling it destiny, force, or any other term would be the same. People need to believe in something greater than themselves, to try and obtain a calm that would only be granted if you were mad (or sane) enough to be blind against it.

(…)

_ Anne apparently grabbed Mary’s hair and pulled it in a fit of fury when she found out Mary had married for love to a nobody. _

(…)

Control starts haunting her more after the first few months.

The idea of being back in the spotlight is terrifying, counting with how many opinions people have, and how easy it is to distribute it. She knows she can’t control every single aspect of her life, but will try to do so in order to feel more secure.

Anne slowly finds herself eating less and less, and it calms her mind. She forces herself to watch food, be around it, and just eat what her mind needs, not what it wants. It’s a way to overcome temptation, to prove to herself and others that she has the discipline needed.

Sometimes she wonders if it’s healthy or not, or overthinks too much about what she ate in a day, but tries to be as conscious and healthy as she can be, it shouldn’t be a bad thing.

(…)

_ She appears inconsistent-religious yet aggressive, calculating yet emotional. _

(…)

Being in the bar is not as bad as the first time. The loud music and dark atmosphere are quite a view. The tables and the quantity of people make her remember the court, and how the nobles would sit on a celebration, but it is something totally different from what she is used to seeing.

“Anne, what do you think I should drink?” Her cousin asks.

“Nothing too heavy, you are not used to drinking. Maybe something sweet, with fruit.” She searches through the drinks written on the board. “Try a screwdriver, it’s orange juice and vodka. It’s not too sweet nor bitter, you might like it.”

“Corrupting the girl much, Anne?” Anna laughs. “I will ask for one Kat, you can try a sip from mine.”

Katherine smiles tensely, nodding lightly with her head.

“I will have a shot of tequila.” Anne announces to the barman.

The man quickly prepares it, letting it on the table, with salt and a slice of lemon. While Anna asks for her screwdriver, Anne takes the lemon.

_ Was it lemon, then shot, then salt? Or the other way around? _

She considers, letting the lemon back in the counter and taking a pinch of salt, drowning the shot in one move and then getting the slice on her mouth.

“Is it good?” Kat asks, watching the displeasure on Anne’s face.

“I like it, but you should probably start with something lighter Kitty.” She lies.

Tequila definitely doesn’t have a good taste, but it was still good. Strong enough to make her tolerate through the night, but not as much to leave her out of her mind.

“Bloody Mary?” Katherine wonders out loud.

“What?” Aragon moves forward, inspecting the sign with the different cocktails.

She quickly turns around, walking towards the exit. Anne makes a gesture to Anna, commanding her to stay with Kitty while she’s gone. Instead of walking to the exit, she goes back to their table, where Jane and Catherine are talking over their non-alcoholic beverages.

“Aragon just saw that there is a cocktail named Bloody Mary.” She lips, her speech getting slurred for the previous shot. “I would have gone with her, but I think she wouldn’t appreciate it as much.”

Parr quickly takes action, grabbing her purse. “I will go, you did the right thing.” She smiles, a hand reaching for Anne, touch she doesn’t reject.

“I will go too.” Jane says. “Thank you, Anne.”

“Text me if we can help.” Boleyn smiles. “We will text when we get home.”

The two queens disappear, crossing the door while Anne sits. She feels dizzy, clearly a little tipsy, but not enough to make her lose her senses or similar. A concern for the first queen is clearly in her mind, even if she tries to ignore it. Anne shouldn’t care about Aragon, after all they were never friends. The older hated her from the very beginning, even if that was most probably because of her sister being the king’s mistress.

“What happened? Where is Aragon?” Kit interrogates her cousin, sitting with her screwdriver in one hand and another colourful drink in the other.

“Parr and Seymour are behind her; they will text if help is needed. Let’s just relax.”

“If you say so…” The younger says, unconvinced. “We brought this thing, it has strawberry and tequila, want to try?”

(…)

_ Anne, Destroyer of Marriages and Churches. _

(…)

At first, she truthfully had it under dominion.

Anne didn’t think of it as a risk, but speculating how much she was eating became not enough, so she moved on to the next thing, counting calories. A website said that she needed around a thousand eight hundred calories a day, which seemed normal for her, except that another one recommended way less.

She settles for the smaller number, trusting herself and the fact that if she feels bad, going back to eating more wouldn’t be a problem.

(…)

_ I guess it’s possible that, while in France, Anne learned not just blow-job skills but also black-magic skills. Who even knows what goes on in France? _

(…)

They are driving back to the house, but Katherine had been replaced by the other Catherine, Parr.

“Why don’t we put some music?” Anna tries to ease the air.

“I’m really worried about Katherine, I’m sorry but I don’t have the mind space for music right now.” Anne replies, face stern.

“She is going to be okay.” Parr tries to calm her down. “Katherine is strong, we know that. We saw her as queen, and she went through it as graciously as she could.”

There is a silence forming, before Anne decides to break it. “I forget that you’ve known her for longer than I have.”

She releases a dry laugh.

“It’s okay, we can always tell you about our past if you want to.” Catherine says, softer.

“That much is true.” Anna seconds.

“I… I wish to know more about Elizabeth.”

For a moment, Parr faces changes. Anne doesn’t feel bothered by it, instead she feels touched. The survivor’s face had changed from neutral to quasi sad, and the beheaded swears she knows that feeling.

She knows deep inside that blaming Parr for being Elizabeth's mother figure is nothing but wrong. Her daughter truly needed someone, and she was long dead and forgotten. It was hard to rely on what happened with Henry, after all he claimed love. The king moved an entire country just for her, broke England for the Church so they could get married.

It was hard to understand that it wasn’t love, just a sick obsession.

“I will tell you.” The last queen almost whispers.

“Thank you, but tonight let’s focus on Katherine.”

(…)

_ A downright nasty creature. _

(…)

Anne starts feeling faint and unsteady one morning.

She knew as soon as she woke up that it was going to be a bad day. Her stomach was making noise, and twisting and it even hurt. As much as she wanted to eat, she preferred having control. It soothed her, made her feel just numb enough to feel a little more peaceful.

Anne remembered days after the miscarriages. How much her body would hurt, and how it all felt dizzy and slow. When it was worse, time seemed to stop, slow down. Instead of feeling a minute had passed it felt like an hour. Laying in bed was never something she truly enjoyed.

Trying to shake thoughts away, she stood up, her vision going black for a moment. Changing into her clothes was almost hard, but she went through it.

Once downstairs she settles to eat some fruit, trying to reduce the headache she is having. Katherine enters the kitchen looking pale and tired, and grabs a cup of coffee. They talked about it, Anne tried to make Katherine not drink as much caffeine, to reduce or stop drinking energy drinks that later settled bad on her stomach, but she didn’t want to push the matter.

Anne felt bad enough for her doble moral of pushing Katherine to be healthier while she was eating less and less each day.

(…)

_ The film depicted Anne Boleyn dabbling in witchcraft, taking a potion to bring on the miscarriage of a baby (which turns out to be monstrously deformed) and having a “witch taker” help to bring her down. _

(…)

Anne was crying her eyes out in the bedroom, feeling silly and equally foolish.

Losing control and binge eating were just so stressful that once she realized how bad it was, she wouldn’t stop. Instead just losing herself along with her domination over food, to then wanting to beat herself up for it. Along it came losing her temper with Anna, who didn’t exactly do anything wrong except asking if everything was alright.

Her breath was becoming more and more rapidly, letting her gasp for air.

Boleyn was sure of how wrong it was of her to be doing it, to not control herself and stop the goddamn crying. It was unbecoming of anyone her status, and if the court had seen her like this she would have been executed way sooner. She was tired of being a fragile, emotional moron.

Everyone thought of her as someone above it all, calculating and smart, who turned things her way, but people never tried to sincerely try and see beyond it. She was ambitious, sure, but that didn’t mean her emotions were straight up fake. It was also hard to see it nowadays, where people didn’t hold the same opinions of what women should be doing, but still tried to push the witchy temptress narrative on her.

Anne was just incapable of keeping her façade of being strong.

(…)

_ A downright nasty creature. _

(…)

“Anne, can we talk?” Catherine Parr asks, entering the other queen’s bedroom.

“Yes, sure.”

Her heart is beating fast, growing nervous of what the other queen might want to say.

“I want to be straight forward, and I’m sorry if it sounds rude…” the survivor takes a pause. “I have noticed you lost weight.”

Anne’s heart stops suddenly, but she manages to put on a smile.

“It’s just because of the show, working out a lot and eating the same. But I’m okay, truly.” She brushes it with a laugh.

“Don’t lie, please.” Cathy’s eyes water. “I’m worried. A lot.”

“You shouldn’t, I’m okay, and if I ever need help, I will talk to you.” Guilt creeps from inside.

Catherine just nods.

(…)

_ I also think she deserved to die. _

(…)

Anne wasn’t sure if she was still upset and resentful toward Jane or Catherine. Both Catherines.

Once upon a time she hated the plain, blonde woman who just stole her husband and sent her to death, but thinking with perspective, it wasn’t at all Jane’s fault. Jane was no clueless, sweet innocent either, Anne was sure she wasn’t, but she wasn’t guilty. Jane was just like her, saw an opportunity and took it. Her death sentence was formed by not being a noble woman, miscarrying three pregnancies and a man with more power than any man should have.

It was hard to think of the woman as not her rival, but rather a friend. It was also forward probably.

Jane was not perfect, nor a saint. The woman had a range of multiple defects and virtues, as any other of them. She played the game and almost got out victorious, if it wasn’t because God had other plans. Anne found herself liking her more when true colours started showing, discussions, screaming. She might have never truly hated Jane to begin with, but despised how she seemed perfect, something Anne craved her whole life, but instead always failed to do so.

(…)

_ Today, she would probably be diagnosed as being a sociopath. _

(…)

“I think I sometimes hate technology.” Anne says. “Why does it work so low sometimes, I have been trying to get the page to reload for like a minute.”

“Maybe you don’t have patience.” Anna retorts. “Just wait a moment, the internet will come back before you even notice it. Why don’t you sit and eat some apple pie?”

It is sitting on the centre of the table, one slice already eaten. Anne wonders, trying to remember how many calories it could have. Calculations going quickly through her head, but before finishing them she decides to stop. It was wrong, and she was tired of it.

“Yeah, that sounds good. Want some tea?” She moves, preparing everything to heat the water.

“Yes, please.”

Anna grabs another plate, setting a slice of apple pie on it. Catherine enters the room, with a book in her hands and an empty coffee mug.

“I want pie.” Parr states.

“Magic word?” Anne teases the survivor.

“ _ Je t'aime beau cul. _ ”

Boleyn bursts out laughing.

“What? What did I say wrong?”

“You pronounced bad the last part, it’s _ beaucoup _ , no  _ beau cul. _ ”

Seeing as Anne still can’t contain herself, Anna proceeds to question: “Why is it so funny? She just messed up pronunciation, it’s not that bad.”

“Instead of saying ‘I love you so much’ she said “I love you, nice ass’.”

It is enough to make Parr chuckle and Anna start giggling.

“Don’t worry,  _ mon petit chou. _ ” Anne grabs a plate and settles another slice of the pie. “A sweet, to a sweetheart.”

She winks an eye to Parr, who can’t contain her smile.

(…)

_ She was just naive to a very severe scale. _

(…)

“Catherine.” Anne calls.

They are the only ones in the house, being Catherine’s night off, and the fact that Anne could barely stand without her blood pressure going really low. Her body was reacting badly to the lack of nutrition, even when she added more calories and food, some days were just awful.

“Yes, Anne?” The older queen asks.

“I wanted to apologize for our past life. I never said it to you, but I’m sorry for what happened. I can’t imagine what being far from Mary could have been, and I shouldn’t have been so cynical about it.”

“It’s fine.” Catherine says, trying to smile. “We were different back then.”

“I am not.” Anne speaks easily. “I haven’t changed. I’m just not a good person and… And I wanted power. I wanted to be queen, to have control.”

“That is not bad.” Aragon tries to go slowly, to not say something she might later regret. “I think that is something we both have in common,  _ control _ . I wished every night I would have the chance to escape the tower, and I wished for nothing else rather than to be free. I will admit it, being in a high rank gave me that. I always had some control, call it my title or a powerful family member by my side.”

Catherine locks eyes with Boleyn.

“You just wanted to have control over your own life, and not have to sacrifice yourself and your reputation for your family.” She touches Anne’s shoulders. “But you didn’t. We are women, we didn’t have a say in anything. Don’t assume you had control over Henry, because we know that’s not true, but you know what? You can breathe now, he is gone. You don’t have to work so hard for control, because you have it. You are free to be yourself, Boleyn.”

The queen is shaking, almost sobbing. The Spanish kisses her head in a sweet manner.

“And I’m rooting for the day you decide to do so.”

(…)

_ I'm sure Anne was an inspiration to the Grimms for the character of the evil stepmother.  _

(…)

Eating starts to get more and more lawless.

Her calorie counting apps are left untouched for days, maybe even weeks, but that doesn’t mean her habits get better, they just get wilder. Eating a lot sometimes, and other days barely touching her meal. It’s not quite better, she knows that, but she feels more at ease. Letting go of her rules it’s a difficult task, and two steps forward and three steps behind is not a good thing, but it’s just the bare minimum.

Getting a medical check up also contributes to how she acts. Apparently, there is something called anemia and the doctor asks her if she lost a lot of blood recently.

(She thinks for a moment if consulting how much blood you lose when someone chops your head off, but decides to go against it and say that she didn’t.)

Iron supplements are quite horrible, and it tastes like blood, mixed with the orange juice she now has to drink every morning. Tomatoes and lettuce were truly better back in the old days when it had actually taste, and wasn’t just watery genetically modified seeds.

It helps with her low blood pressure, and it makes her feel grateful for being able to stand up fast without seeing black dots everywhere. Eating normal seems like a possibility one day, maybe in a long time. Maybe if she can forget about how many calories there are in a gram of fat.

(…)

_ She was just cruel and crazy!  _

(…)

“She was smart.” Parr concludes.

They are sitting together outside, being one of the least cold nights of the year. They still have to wear sweaters, but the sky is without a cloud.

“I love her.” Anne smiles. “I remember the last time I saw her. She was so small, still so ladylike. I knew she was destined for something great, even knew it when I was pregnant. That’s why I thought she was a boy, honestly. But just staring at her for the first time I knew she was it for me.”

“She loved you, and she was great. The greatest.” Cathy puts a hand on Anne’s back.

“I wish I had the chance to see her grow up.” Tears start forming in her eyes. “It was my fault.”

“No.” She insisted. “Don’t say that, Henry was insane.”

“I thought he loved me.” A watery smile passes through. “I was foolish enough to think he did.”

There is a silence, and for a moment they stay like that. But the survivor speaks up: “Did you love him?”

“Yes.” Anne states easily. “Or no. I probably didn’t, and he most certainly didn’t either, but I think we both believed we did.”

“Do you love him?”

“No, do you?”

“Never did.”

“Be careful, your neck is quite delicate… I don’t think it would be hard to cut with a sword.”

A sarcastic laugh makes its way to Catherine’s lips. “Funny.”

“Did she love me?” Anne asks, going back to the serious conversation.

“I think she did.”

(…)

_ Anne May Have Encouraged Her Cousin To Have Sex With Her Husband _

(…)

“How was therapy today, Kitty?” She asks, taking a cookie from the jar.

“I think it was good.” Her cousin smiles.

“I’m glad it was, I still don’t understand how it works.”

“You should try it sometime; you love talking about yourself after all.” The younger nervously jokes. “It’s just my advice, but maybe one day you should go.”

“I don’t know, I would rather solve things by myself. But if I ever think I might need it, I will go.”

She smiles, and moves to hug her relative.

“I love you Kit, and I’m happy you feel better.”

“I love you too, Annie.”

(…)

_ Anne Boleyn was certainly no saint – no person living or dead is – but she was certainly no cold-hearted scheming bitch either. _

(…)

Eating never becomes as normal as it used to be.

It’s not about recovery, or getting better, it’s just there are things you can’t forget. When times get hard it’s easy to rely on it, to think about old times as something better, and Anne had too many old times to try and go back to. But she learns how to fall and rise again, time after time.

Things scars. Emotions, feelings, fears. They are no more than scars. Some are visible, her neck when she doesn’t wear chokers is an example of it, but she still shows it. Because she knows there is nothing better than being true to herself, to tell how it was from her point of view.

Control stops being the most important thing, but telling her truth is.

(…)

_ She came back smarter, stronger. _

(…)

“I love you, queens!” Anne says, entering the kitchen one morning.

“What did you do this time?” Parr questions.

“Nothing.” Her voice is small.

“Cousin?” Kitty wonders.

“It might, or might not be my birthday.”

“Ha! I told you, all of you!” Aragon smiles. “Happy birthday, Anne!”

“ _ Ugh _ , I was sure it was tomorrow, I hate you.” Cleves complains, while moving to embrace the smaller girl into a hug.

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner? I will go to buy a cake.” Jane is quick to give Anne a kiss on the forehead.

“No! We can go later, now I want to stay here for a while and…” she clears her throat. “I know I never had the best relationship with all of you, but really I’m glad you gave me a chance. And I’m happy I gave you all one too.”

“Annie we love you!” Katherine squeaks.

(…)

_ From sparking a radical religious reform to giving birth to one of England’s most beloved monarchs, it’s possible that Anne shaped her country more than any queen before or since. _

(…)

Anne changes, and she notices it.

She notices how mature she can act, but still be playful and joke around. She learns how to commit errors, how to fail and say she is sorry, and not to hate herself for it. She learns to learn, to not try to outshine everyone.

And for the first time she gets peace, with herself, her body and her story. She stops spiralling into a million questions and “what if”. Anne learns to live with herself, to love what she is and what she is not and stop pursuing an idyllic dream.

She learns to forgive, which is the hardest but most rewarding thing to do when times get hard.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!  
> come and say hi to my tumblr! (lessix)
> 
> constructive critism and comments are wildly appreciated:)


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